Tonight’s dinner: roadside v seaside

Not sure what to call tonight’s dinner, my wife gone, I was doing a few house projects after work, so mostly leftovers and I started by soaking 8mm rice noodles in cool water for 35 minutes to soften them up, and I prepped everything else during that time, first walking up our long dirt road and picking a colander full of dandelion greens, bright and toothy in this our second consecutive sunny day this spring, and I rinsed them well with the hose that rests by our outdoor kitchen, rinsing and shaking off the road dust, ensuring they were clean and fresh, and from the fridge I took last night’s remnant of crab stock tomatoes and ground pork, an egg and a lemon, and after blanching the dandelion leaves for about two minutes or a bit less I rinsed them and squeezed out the excess water, giving me a good grip so I could cut them crosswise every inch or half inch and I fluffed them loose so they wouldn’t be clumped in the wok, and brought everything outside, along with a handful of garlic cloves and a few fresh hot chilis. On with the propane burner and when the wok had smoked off the previous meal’s memory I poured in a little oil, coated the sides, and poured it into a mason jar, subsequently adding just a splash of fresh oil and scraping in the dandelion greens and a few tablespoons of dried shrimp I had rehydrated for about ten minutes in a ramekin of warm water and after I scraped all this out I cracked the egg in the wok and scrambled it for a minute, removing it and then adding the garlic and chilis I had crushed in the stone mortar and pestle, and then I added back the greens and egg, mixing it all together for a second and dumping it into the bowl again. Then up with the heat and I dropped the noodles, which had been spun dry after soaking, and coated with a teaspoon or two of oil, and as soon as they touched the hot hot wok I used my tongs and kept lifting separating and dropping them back into the wok and when they were uniformly hot and beginning to blister I added the pork tomato crab stock around the edges, lifting the noodles even faster to ensure they didn’t clump, and as the last of the crab stock all but evaporated I added all the other stuff back in and stirred in quickly to coat everything evenly. Into my bowl and then a big squeeze of lemon. Damn, the smokiness of the noodles, the brightness of the lemon, the bitter deep dandelion greens, the rich umami crab pork tomato sauce, and the lightness of the egg. Chopsticks or a fork, both work equally well. Tuesday dinner, and then I gave the kitchen walls another coat of white paint.

Echoes

Hi friends. A move to Maine, a job change, long spells in Asia and undiminished curiosity about food and how we get it and where we get it and prepare it and how we share it and whether we find ways and time to think about systems and processes and the politics that make things possible or point us toward some kind of social political culinary catastrophe, and as we ease into September and the long glory of warm days and a sun that doesn't rise as high, I continue to make stories, cook food, eat it, and think about it. A pasta machine and an outdoor wheelbarrow stove are two pieces of equipment I use with more regularity than I did in Vermont, or Minnesota before that, and my bread baking has all but disappeared. Pork, duck, rabbits and lamb have mostly given way to clams, crabs, mussels, fish, oysters and lobster, most of which are found at the end of our dock or just down the road, and the corresponding stocks and broths have been supplanted in equal proportion.  And, despite a long silence, it's still this life, and we change and grow and our tastes and opinions evolve and some of them we settle into and others we leave behind, and if there's a thread woven through this, it's my continued belief that with hospitality and generosity and a welcoming table we can address most of the important issues of life.